


My Kind of Perfect

by ShaneColton



Series: Emerson [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria - Freeform, Companionship, F/M, Slow Burn, dead daryl, dead negan, emotional scars, mentions of slight non/con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-18 12:13:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10616682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneColton/pseuds/ShaneColton
Summary: (Sequel to My Kind of Crazy)Now that Emerson is free from Negan and his Sanctuary, she finds herself in Alexandria breaking the news of Daryl to Rick Grimes and his group. Emerson is torn between staying and trying to live as a part of these people, or to take her stuff and run. Being her own isn't something she wants to do anymore, but after her experience with Negan she is terrified to trust her safety to any of the strangers around her, except Rick. He was different, in a good way.Rick had never expected to see Negan's head hanging from a woman's hand, but there she was. Emerson. After news of Daryl's death, Rick is shook up, grieving the loss of his brother. But this woman seems to be a broken as he is, messed up by Negan, and he find her easy to talk to. Maybe there is a chance for them to help heal each other.Can Rick show Emerson that he is worth sticking around for? Or will Emerson run away to be alone again?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for the support on my first Walking Dead fanfiction, My Kind of Crazy. I know a lot of you have been waiting for the promised sequel, so here it is! I hope it isn't a letdown. Updates will be slow as I am having surgery tomorrow and have no idea how long recovery will be. And I'm in college too, so yeah.
> 
> Enjoy! Please comment!

_Emerson leaned back in her chair, eyes on the shaggy haired man across from her. She gnawed slowly on a piece of bread and listened as he spoke, voice barely more than a rough whisper. He was the quiet sort, and she suspected that was true of his personally, not just something he’d become under Negan’s “guidance.” So when he spoke, and they found something to have a conversation about, Emerson listened. He’d finally opened up to her about the people in Alexandria, his family, and she wasn’t going to miss a word._

_“Lotsa good people there. ‘Specially Rick.” At the mentioning of his best friend’s name, sadness passed over his face. If he ever got free of Negan’s grasp, you best believe he was headed right back into that man’s orbit._

_“Rick. He’s the leader, right?”_

_“Yeah. He’s good at it. People respect him._ I _trust him more ‘n anyone.” Something else she had learned about Daryl in their time together was that he didn’t trust easily. Saw everyone as the enemy until they proved themselves otherwise. Held everyone at arm’s length, and rarely trusted anyone._

_“Sounds like a good man.”_

_“Been though a lot. Me ‘n him. We’re brothers now.” Daryl looked up and pushed his hair aside with dirt stained fingers. “If you ever get outta here, go there.”_

_“Together. I’m not going anywhere without you.” And she meant it. Emerson herself didn’t trust easily either, one of the things they had in common. Maybe it was reason they’d bonded so quickly in this place._

_After sitting there for a long moment, he gave a slight nod. “Yeah. Rick’ll like you.”_

And now here she sat, across from Rick at his dining room table, staring back into the face of the man who had earned such loyalty from Daryl. Because of how highly her friend had spoken of this man, Emerson trusted him too, despite not knowing him. And it broke another already broken piece of her that she was about to tell him that his friend, his _brother_ , was dead.

Introductions had been made and Rick had wanted to speak with her alone, something she was glad for. Being around a lot of curious people right now wasn’t what she wanted or needed. An empty glass sat in front of her, the only evidence that it had once been full encased in the few tiny drops of water that she had missed.

Shifting in her chair, afraid of getting things dirty, Emerson took a deep breath and let her gaze lock onto his own. _Wow, his eyes are so blue._ “I uh, met Daryl during my time in what we called solitary. There were these very tiny, closet-like spaces. Daryl brought me some food one day. But after I was working for points, we just…connected. He became my best friend in there, the only person I could trust and vice-versa.” Letting out a shaky exhale, Emerson curled her hand around the empty glass, eyes leaving Rick’s to stare down into its depths.

“But our friendship was a weakness, one Negan liked to take advantage of whenever one of us pissed him off. Which was fairly often, to be honest.” Emerson’s eyes flitted to his, but he was keeping his face passive, though his eyes revealed more than he probably wished they did. “Negan came to me when I was working, madder than I’d ever seen, him over a false accusation about me that one of his men had made.”

This wasn’t easy for her to talk about, to say out loud for the first time, and she was finding it difficult to keep the tears in. “I didn’t know what was happening, or what he wanted from me, and he…told them to bring Daryl over. I tried to stop it, Rick, I swear on my life.” Tears slipped from her eyes and slowly ran their way down her already streaked face. “But I couldn’t.”

Emerson didn’t have to tell Rick what had come next for Daryl. He’d been through this a few times already, and knew how Negan liked to kill.

Rick could no longer control himself and he stood, turning away from her. His head was shaking as if he couldn’t process what she had just told him, as if by some stroke of luck Daryl wasn’t dead. The toe of his left foot connected with the wall a few times, and Emerson stayed quiet, letting the man have his moment.

Tears fell faster from her own eyes as a heavy, _heart-shattering_ sob wracked his body, and he collapsed against the wall, sliding down and burying his face in his hands. It was something she hated to watch, feeling as this was a private moment he needed to have alone. But instead of leaving she merely sat there, staring at her folded hands on the table until he could gather himself.

When he was standing again, eyes full of sadness and anger, that wasn’t directed at her, Emerson stood too. Carefully shrugging out of the leather vest, she held it out to him. “I think you should have this. Daryl called you his brother. Said he trusted you more than anyone.”

Rick swallowed hard, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He reached out for it, taking it almost reverently from her hands. “Thank you.” Rick said, voice rough from emotion. Looking up at her at from where he was eyeing the vest in his hands, he asked, “What about all of Negan’s men? If someone else takes over, they still outnumber us.”

“I know. The only one capable of leading as Negan did was Simon, and he’s dead. Negan killed him when he realized the accusation against me had been false. He didn’t appreciate lying. Most seemed rather okay with Negan being dead, so I think they’ll disperse into smaller groups. But I’m sure they’ll leave this place alone. I put the fear of God into them.” Emerson glanced down to where Lucille rested against the table. The crossbow and six arrows were there too.

“Did you want his crossbow too?” She asked quietly, and to her surprise Rick shook his head.

“No. You earned the right to keep that. I think he would have wanted it.” Rick said, giving her a nod. “You’re welcome to stay here. We’ll share what we have as long as you pitch in. But it looks to me like you should get checked out first.”

Emerson hadn’t noticed, but her legs were shaking again as she stood, so she nodded at his suggestion. She had long forgotten about the blood smeared on her face and soaked into the jeans she was wearing. Her feet had started hurting, and when her eyes landed on them, they were still bare and dirty, most likely cut up from the long walk there. “That would be good, I guess. Mostly just lack of food. Since Daryl, I…” Her voice trailed off but he nodded in understanding.

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

“Wait.” Emerson said, and Rick stopped, looking back at her with a cocked eyebrow. Pulling the gun from where she’d put it in her bag, she held it out to him. “Daryl said this belonged to you. So, I took it on my way out.”

Rick’s eyes held hers for a long moment, as if he wasn’t sure what to say or how to interpret the gesture. “Thank you.” He said, their fingers brushing as he took the gun from her hand.

“Yeah.”

@@@

It had been late, so after the doctor cleaned her up a little and treated her feet as well as getting some food and water in her, Rick had given her a room in one of the houses, and she gratefully curled up on the floor with a blanket, weapons next to her for safekeeping. She was dirty, but she was exhausted, and for the first time since her capture she felt safe. And so, she slept.

_Her head dropped to Daryl’s shoulder and she laughed quietly. “You call that a joke?”_

_“Well ya laughed, didn’t ya?” He said, a grin tugging at his lips._

_“You need to get better material.”_

_“Nah, I like my stuff.” He chuckled softly, head leaning to rest against her own._

_Their physical contact was far from sexual. It had never been that way between them. They both sought the comfort of another person, just not in that way. It was the middle of the night and he’d snuck into her room because both neither wanted to be alone after a bad day._

_Emerson opened her mouth to say something, but when blood spattered her face and Daryl’s head exploded next to her, she screamed. Negan seemed to appear out of nowhere and his bat was bloody, Daryl’s flesh hanging from it as he pushed it against her cheek._

_“You just fucking_ killed _him. Damn. That wasn’t nice of you, sweetheart. And here I thought he was your best friend.”_

Emerson shot into a sitting position, sweat pouring off her body, the word “no” ripping from her lips in a shout. Someone in the house must have heard, because she heard rapid footsteps and her door swung open hard enough to hit the wall.

Sasha was standing there in her underwear, holding a knife, and looking around the room for the threat. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Instinct had Emerson scrabbling for the crossbow, but she lowered it after realizing that she wasn’t in danger from the woman who’d entered. “Yeah, sorry. Just a…dream.” She said, wiping some of the sweat from her brow.

Sasha gave a nod at this. “Been there myself. Bathroom is down the hall on the left. Running water if you’d like to clean up. I’ll make us tea in the kitchen, okay?”

Emerson gave a nod and stood as the woman padded barefoot from her room, and she grabbed a clean shirt from her bag to take with her into the restroom.

Once locked inside, Lucille with her, Emerson stared at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back. Her auburn hair had grown longer was now several inches below her shoulders. Her once filled out face was gaunt and pale, the few freckles more visible than they had been. But it was the sight her eyes that scared Emerson the most. Something was missing from them, and though she wasn’t sure what it was yet, it wasn’t a good thing.

The shower she took was short, but she scrubbed herself clean under the water, ridding herself of Negan’s blood and her own sweat before getting out. Though they didn’t smell the best and Negan’s blood had dried into the material, she slipped her jeans back on because it was the only garment that she had for her lower body. A clean shirt of Negan’s went on next, and she tied it up so it looked a bit less ridiculous on her.

Despite what she had been through while at Negan’s compound, Emerson couldn’t help but inhale his scent from the shirt, and it calmed her. _Gotta be Stockholm Syndrome…_ Emerson sighed softly and dried her hair with the towel before heading out to meet Sasha in the kitchen.

The woman was sitting on the counter, dressed now, holding her own steaming cup and she gave Emerson a smile. Emerson nodded her thanks and leaned against the counter and lifted her own mug, breathing in the steam with a soft sigh. Lucille rested against the wall, and she saw Sasha staring at it.

“Did you kill him with it?”

 Emerson looked up and gave a small nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“Good.”

Things fell silent and eventually Emerson joined the woman on the counter, not wanting to stand anymore. It was a comfortable silence though. Sasha was allowing Emerson to just be and not forcing some awkward conversation.

“I’m sorry about all your friends.” Emerson finally said, leaning her head back against the cabinet at her back.

“I’m sorry about yours.”

“I should burn the damn thing.” Emerson took a long sip of the warm tea, her eyes on the bat now, which was also stained with Negan’s blood. It was a reminder of everyone that they had seen killed by the man who’d controlled their fates for far too long. “But I find myself wanting to hold onto it.”

Sasha didn’t respond for a while, but when she did, her voice was quiet. “The sight of it unsettling, yes. Just a very physical symbol of what we’ve all lost.” Emerson appreciated her honesty. “But I understand wanting to keep it too. You avenged them. All three of them, even if you never met the other two. You did what we couldn’t, so yeah. If you want to keep that fuckin’ bat, then you should do it.”

Emerson lifted her mug in Sasha’s direction. “To Daryl.”

“To Glenn and Abraham.” Sasha gently clinked their mugs and they both sipped, again content to bask in the silence.

@@@

When the sun rose, Emerson exited the house, crossbow slung over her shoulders. It was cool outside since fall was almost upon them, and a small shiver ran though her. Her coat had been taken by Negan, along with everything she had owned, and she had no idea what he’d done with them. And in her hurry to get out of the Sanctuary, Emerson hadn't bothered to grab her shoes, an oversight she was regretting now.

People in Alexandria were already up, and the night watch was trading shifts with the people who took over for them, yawning and heading to their various houses. Rick was across the street, standing on his porch with a glass of water, observing the shift change. His free hand rested on the handle of his holstered weapon. The man carried himself with a quiet power that everyone noticed, _felt,_ and Emerson was no exception to him.

His hair was starting to grey, but it worked for him. Rick had a heavy load to carry and she could read the tension in his shoulders from her side of the street. The silver wedding ring stood out against the tan skin of his arms, something he still wore even though his wife had died four years previously. Daryl had shared a lot about Rick, what he’d known anyway, and Emerson felt as if she knew Rick.

He turned his head and caught her gaze, and they stood there for a minute or two simply watching the other, trying to figure the other person out. Making the first move, she headed across the street and slowly took the few steps to his porch.

“Mornin’.” Rick told her as she stopped next to him, following his gaze out to the gate.

“Thank you for allowing me to stay the night.”

“Do you plan on stickin’ around?”

Emerson thought about the question for a bit, unsure of her decision. “To be honest, I'm not sure.” She turned her back to the street and leaned back against a rail, crossing her arms over her chest. “I was on my own the entire time, and I stayed alive. My first real interactions with a group, well, as you can see that didn't go so well.”

Turning to face her, Rick leaned his hip into the rail a couple feet from her and cocked his head. “You've spent nearly seven years _alone_?”

“No family, few friends left alive. Never found anyone that I dared to trust. So yeah, alone seemed like the right choice?”

“And now?”

Emerson caught his gaze and gave a shrug. “Despite what Negan did to me, he provided something I hadn't had in a very long while. Company. Intelligent conversation.” She sighed softly before whispering, “Intimacy.” Her eyes avoided his now. “The silence of this new world can be deafening, but I can't help but wonder if I'm still safer alone.”

One of Rick's hands reached up and he scrubbed it over his beard, her eyes flicking over the ring. Emerson had always had a thing for nice hands, and Rick's were definitely nice. And the ring only added to their appeal.

“Emerson, I can't promise safety here, at least from what's behind those walls. But we're good people, and we'd have your back. You don't have to be alone anymore.”

“Sounds too good to be true.”

A smile tugged at his lips at her words, and it changed his whole face into something she found herself wanting to mirror. “You'd pull your weight like the rest of us. And we have rules that have to be followed, as in any real society.” The grin widened a bit. “Not like I can run a background check.”

Emerson found herself smiling too. “No record anyway. Just a couple unpaid parking tickets.”

“You're welcome here, Emerson. Especially after what you did for us.” His head nodded slowly. “You didn't have to come here and tell us about Negan, or about Daryl, but you did. And that means a lot to all of us.”

Emerson swallowed back some emotion and looked away from Rick's face, running a hand through her hair. “Daryl said you were good people. That I should come here if I ever got free. And he would've wanted you to have closure about him. And to know that you were free of Negan.”

“I'm glad he had someone at the end.” Rick's own voice was tight with emotion now, and when she looked back over at him, those blue eyes were shimmering with tears. “He was my best friend, and I was always a little bit in love with him.”

This statement didn't surprise her in the least. The way Daryl had talked about Rick made her think there was always something more he wasn't, and it had now been confirmed. “Were you together?”

He shook his head and motioned her to follow him into the house, and Emerson did so without hesitating. “No. I never told him. Was always too afraid of messin’ up what we already had.”

Rick moved into the kitchen and pulled out a box of pancake mix and a frying pan. “Were you and he?”

Emerson slid onto a stool and curled her toes around the footrest. “Nah. Wasn't like that between us.” Her eyes flicked to his for a moment. “But he became my best friend in there.”

Rick just nodded and in no time at all he was dishing them both up three pancakes. There was no syrup but neither of them seemed to care about that. He slid onto the stool next to her and they ate in silence, sharing the occasional glance

 “Come on. I’ll show you around Alexandria and then we can decide how you help out until you leave, if you feel strong enough.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Readjusting the crossbow strap over her shoulder, Emerson followed the ex-sheriff’s deputy out the door, and into the street. “We found this place last year, and it’s worked well for us so far. We are running low on food now, though. Negan was taking a lot from us.”

“I can help you solve that.” Emerson said with a shrug.

Rick came to a stop, hands on his hips, and stared at her. “How’s that?”

“We’ll just go to Negan’s compound and take what we need.”

He huffed out a humorless laugh at that and raised a brow. “You must have forgotten that we have no weapons. I’m not sending my people in there, or my vehicles. We don’t even know what’s happened since you left.”

Emerson bristled ever so slightly at his response. “I’ll go then. Come back and let you know what’s happening over there so you can take back what’s yours.”

Rick stared her down, turning fully to face her and putting his hands on his hips. “That could be a suicide mission. There is no reason for you to do such a stupid thing.”

“I owe him!” Emerson yelled in Rick’s face before stepping away and running her hands over her face.

When Rick spoke again, his voice had softened. “Owe who?”

“Daryl. I’m the reason he never made it back here.”

“Emerson, that’s not— “

“Yes, Rick. It _is_ my fault. I shoulda been stronger.” She glanced over at him and continued, her words coming out in a rush. “If I hadn’t have let Negan rap— sleep with me, he wouldn’t have gotten all possessive, and Daryl would still be alive.”

Something she couldn’t read flashed through Rick’s eyes and he ducked his head for a long moment. “None of that is your fault, so don’t think like that. You don’t owe anyone anything.”

“I do. And I plan on paying up.” Emerson said before turning and heading back for the house.

People had heard her raising her voice, so she kept her eyes on the ground as she moved back into the house. Knowing she would be back, Emerson dumped out her pack on the blanket so she could fill it with things from the compound to bring back. Deciding to take only Lucille and the knife as weapons, she exited back to the street and headed for the gate.

The guards didn’t open it, only stared at her. One of the females, Rosita she assumed, glanced over Emerson’s shoulder, so Emerson turned around to see Rick headed her way.

“Here. Take these. It’s a long walk.” Rick held a pair of boots that looked to be her size, two bottles of water, and three granola bars which she reluctantly took.

“I’m coming back, if that’s okay with you.” She said quietly, hazel eyes tracing over his face.

“Yeah. ‘S okay with me.” He nodded at the guards and the gate slid open behind her with a loud squeak. “Be careful.”

Emerson gave him a nod, put the things in her pack, and headed out the gate without so much as a glance over her shoulder.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this Chapter will help you figure out that Emerson does indeed have some Stockholm Syndrome. She knows Negan was evil and is glad he is dead, but she also developed feeling for him over their time together. And she is convinced that a part of her is in love with him, and she's probably right. Also Rick has a tiny bit of that himself, which will be discovered later. Their eventual romance will be two messed up people being messed up together, so don't expect a fairytale lol.
> 
> Please comment and give me feedback! Keeps me motivated. 
> 
> <3, Shane.

_ Rick’s POV _

Rick watched Emerson until the gate shut and he couldn’t see her anymore. With a sigh, he turned and headed back down the street, mind playing her words over and over. She’d barely been able to stop the word rape from leaving her lips, and that was something he himself was all too familiar with.

While Negan had sworn he was against rape, what he _wasn’t_ against was manipulation. Making it impossible to say no to him, and then making you think you’d wanted it all along. It was a talent that he had possessed and used on Rick more than once. He shuddered as he thought about the times they’d been alone together, and Negan had taken advantage of a scared father to get what he’d wanted.

And the worst part of it all was that Rick hadn’t hated it entirely. Negan had owned up to his claim and had make Rick feel better than he had in a long time, and that made Rick feel dirtier than anything. It had been nice to simply let go and have someone take over, if only for a few minutes, when no one else’s safety was involved.

He’d just met Emerson but she seemed to be in the same boat. He could smell Negan on the shirt she was wearing, one of his he assumed. The way she hung on to Lucille, even though she hated the thing. Negan had broken her, as he had broken Rick, and they were both going to suffer from it, like it or not.

Stepping back into his house, Rick's blue eyes fell on the vest draped over the back of his couch, and emotion welled up in his chest. He sank to his knees in front of the vest and his hands curled in the leather. Rick brought it to his face, wishing that Daryl’s scent was still hidden somewhere inside.

Tears fell from his eyes, his heart grieving Daryl in a way it hadn't yet. When Emerson had told him the news, it was as if his soul had been ripped from his body. _Again._ This world kept stealing those he loved away from him, and this loss was a particularly hard one. He and Daryl had shared a bond he didn't have with anyone else, and probably never would.

When he heard a throat clear, he glanced up to see Carl standing there, staring at the vest. Rick hadn’t come out and said that Daryl was dead, but everyone knew. While he planned to honor Daryl when Emerson returned, he still hadn’t made any official announcement. But the look on Carl’s face as he stared at what remained of Daryl broke Rick’s heart.

Pushing to his feet, Rick ran his fingers over the leather. “I’m sorry, Carl.”

Carl gaze flitted to Rick’s, anger flashing though his features. “We could have saved him.” He ground out, fist closing around the butt of his gun in frustration. “If you’d had the _balls_ to kill that bastard, Daryl would still be alive.

Rick swallowed at this. He’d though he had been doing his best to keep everyone safe from Negan. As long as the man was happy, the bloodshed was kept to a bare minimum. But his son had been the one to stand up to Negan when no one else would. His boy had snuck into a truck and then killed several of Negan’s men, something Rick couldn’t bring himself to do. Carl had crossed Negan. Been defiant in the face of a monster.

“Carl— “

“No. I don’t want to hear your excuses.” His son spat before storming out the door and slamming it shut.

The tears slid down Rick’s face again, his fingers closing into fists. “I’m so sorry, Daryl.” He took the vest and settled onto the couch, just giving himself a few moments before he pushed it all down and became the leader he needed to be for his people.

When he had gathered himself again, Rick left the vest on Carl’s bed before getting back to what needed to be done, his mind on Emerson and what she was walking into.

@@@

_ Emerson’s POV _

The walk was long, and her legs and feet ached the longer she kept on. The walk was a bit easier this time since she had food in her system and had gotten a bit of sleep. Lucille was resting on her shoulder in the exact same manner that Negan had always carried her, and a faint smirk tugged at Emerson’s lips. No one had ever expected anyone to get him off guard enough to kill him, yet she had. _She_ had killed Negan.

Thoughts of Rick circled through her mind as she finally, after hours of walking and two rest stops, started closing in on the compound that Negan had called the Sanctuary. Rick’s heartache over Daryl had been palpable, and it had crushed her to have to watch it sink in that his brother was never coming back to him. Swiping a tear from her eye, Emerson sniffed to keep herself from breaking down again. Rick was as broken by life, and by Negan, as she was, and that gave him some sort of solace. Knowing she wasn’t alone made her feel that maybe she was going to be okay again.

When she reached the gates of the Sanctuary, there were still a couple guard milling around, talking and laughing. At the sight of her standing outside, Lucille on her perch, they opened the gate and stood aside as she came in. They were silent, respectful of the freedom that she had given them. Dwight approached her with a wide smile, his hands in front of him as a sign that he meant no harm. Nonetheless, Emerson flexed her fingers around the Lucille’s wooden handle.

“Whoa, it’s okay.” He stopped where he was, smiling as his wife, Sherry, approached him and slid her fingers through his. “We wanted to thank you, but you were gone so quickly.”

Emerson recognized the woman as one of Negan’s previous wives but kept her eyes on Dwight. “I’m here for what belongs to Alexandria.”

Dwight watched her for a moment before nodding. “As you wish. You did us a huge favor, Emerson. I know you don’t trust any of us, much less _like_ us, but we owe you. And you have my word that we are no longer any threat to Alexandria.”

Flexing her fingers around the bat, Emerson nodded before heading toward where she knew the trucks were parked. Finding one that was about the size she needed, she took the keys from under the driver’s seat and pocketed them. Turning, she saw Dwight and some men approaching her and she widened her stance. When they stopped several feet away, she looked them over and spoke. “I want all of the guns and ammo that you stole from them. Food. Medicine. I want it all.”

Dwight split the men into groups and satisfied with this, Emerson headed toward the part of compound that Negan had lived in. Everyone looked at her with some sort of awe or reverence, but she ignored it, one thing on her mind. When she finally made it to Negan’s room, Emerson swung the door open and wrinkled her nose at the smell.

Though the rest of his body was gone now, the stench of blood hung in the air. It took her a few moments to be able to move, eyes locked on the blood-soaked carpet where Negan’s life had drained away from him. The memory of the look on his face as he died was permanently imprinted on her mind, and it gave her an odd sense of satisfaction mixed with sadness. In any other world…

Shaking her head to clear it, she moved to his drawers and opened them, looking for anything of use. Her fingers slid over the white fabric of a few undershirts, and Emerson lifted one, pressing the soft article to her face and inhaling.

There was that scent again, the one that had always clung to his skin and now surrounded her own body. Clean, a hint of the cologne that he wore, and the heady smell of his skin. It was beginning to hit her now, what being here with Negan had meant to her. What _he’d_ meant to her before Daryl’s death. Glancing to the bed, Emerson let out a breath as a memory washed over her.

_Negan’s fingers absently drew patterns on her back as they lay tangled in his bed, sweat glistening on their skin from the previous activity. Emerson was quiet, head resting on his chest, her own fingers sliding over slick skin. Emerson had memorized every inch of his body, every dip, every freckle._

_“Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart.” Negan murmured in that gravelly voice of his, breaking her out of the thoughts she’d been lost in. A faint smile tugged at her lips._

_“Only a penny?” Negan no longer had to manipulate to get her here. It was a normal part of her days now, and it was one she’d even started looking forward to, if he wasn’t pissed off. He’d become somewhat of a sanctuary for her, but she still refused to be his wife. It was the last bit of independence she held on to._

_“I’ll give you whatever you fucking want. Just tell me what the hell your thinking about.”_

_Emerson chuckled softly at this, shifting against his side and slipping a leg over his. “I was thinking about this. Us.”_

_“Isn’t really an us as far as you’re concerned.” Negan replied. His hand slid up her back and tangled in her hair, tugging her head back so he could look at her._

_“But there is. I’m not your wife, no, but I’m the only worker you allow in here. Why is that? I’ve consistently turned down your marriage proposals, yet you still bring me in here.”_

_Negan was quiet for a moment, eyes surveying Emerson’s face and the purple marks his lips and teeth had left over her throat. “Because I just fuck them. We do that too, but it’s different and I’ll be damned if I give that up because of your stubborn streak.”_

_Emerson grinned faintly, lips brushing over his jaw. Negan’s fingers left her hair, but she left her head tipped up toward him. “You know I enjoy this as much as you.”_

_“Then why do you insist on being an idiot and getting your ass kicked all the time by my men?” As if by instinct, his fingers pressed gently into a fresh bruise on her ribs, one that hadn’t been inflicted by him._

_“You could stop that if you wanted.”_

_“Not getting any special treatment outside of here, sweetheart. You made your choice.” He slid out from under her and stood, sauntering toward the bathroom before turning to look over his shoulder. “You coming?”_

Emerson blinked, fingers reaching up to brush away the tears that had slid down her face at the memories of being tangled in the sheets with him. Though Negan had originally manipulated her into sex with him, it had become easy to like him when they were alone. She wanted to be with him, wanted to breathe in the smell of his skin and just lie with him. Talk with him.

Taking the pack off her back, she began putting his t-shirts inside of it, filling it until she could barely close it. Looking around, she opened the closet and grabbed his duffle, taking the gun from his nightstand along with the ammo in the drawer and putting it inside. She found a second leather jacket in his closet and breathed it in before deciding she had no use for it and leaving it there. He had several belts, and she took those too as well as socks.

All his toiletries were next, as well as his extra toothbrushes and razors. When she was done, Emerson took on last look and left the room, wearing the backpack again and carrying the duffel along with her. Heading into the commissary space, she went through some clothes and found several pair of jeans in her size, putting them in the bag with Negan’s belts. She took a second pair of boots, a few snack items, and decided she was good to go. Emerson paused as she got to the door, realizing that she had no underclothes to speak of. Heading back upstairs to where the wives resided, she walked in. No one was sitting around so she entered one of the rooms and dug through some drawers. There was no shortage of lingerie, so Emerson took four sets of bras and panties and shoved them into the almost full duffel bag.

When she arrived back at the truck she had chosen, it was full. Food, medicine, weapons, everything the Saviors had taken from Alexandria and more. It was almost too easy.

“Hey!” A female yelled, capturing Emerson’s attention. Dropping the bags, she turned to face the oncoming woman, fingers wrapping more firmly around Lucille’s handle. A very angry blonde woman approached, stopping a few feet in front of her, a knife held in her hand. “You bitch! You killed my husband.”

“Amber— “ Dwight started from behind Emerson, but Emerson raised her hand to silence him, well aware of her power here.

“Yes. I did.” Emerson said calmly, looking the obviously distraught woman over.

“Maybe now it’s your turn!” Amber yelled, tightening her grip on the knife and taking a step forward. The blonde girl watched as Emerson flexed her fingers around Lucille’s handle and sneered. “Gonna kill me with that, too?”

The young woman, Amber, was at least six years younger than Emerson’s own twenty-nine years, and it made Emerson pity her. This girl had just lost the man who provided her with everything she had needed. Negan had protected her from everyone but himself, and now Amber had nothing or no one.

Emerson shook her head and pressed the tip of the bat into the ground, letting it go and hearing it fall against the gravel. “No. I’m not Negan.” She watched Amber arm lower a little. “You know, they say your first kill is the hardest one. But they’re wrong.” Emerson’s eyes softened and she swallowed before continuing. “The hardest is killing someone that a part of you is in love with.”

The knife was at Amber’s side now, shaking in her hand, so Emerson approached and slid it from her grasp. “I’m sorry you no longer have him, but I’m not sorry he’s dead.” She handed the knife off to Dwight with orders to return it to Amber once she was calm again.

The young woman burst into tears, and Emerson motioned for someone to take her back inside. Her orders were heeded, and a moment later one of the Saviors stepped up to Amber and gently steered Amber back toward the building she had come from. Emerson exhaled, slow and long before picking up Lucille from the ground and planting the bat back onto her shoulder.

“Thank you for not hurting her.”

“Take care of everyone.” Was all she said before moving to the truck and tossing her stuff inside. Climbing into the driver’s seat, Emerson let out a second, long exhale to center herself. Finally inserting the key and hearing the rumble of the engine as it started, she drove out the gates and back toward the place that she might one day call home.

@@@

Twenty miles went a lot quicker in a vehicle than on foot, and Emerson was very grateful for that. Her body was nowhere near full strength yet, and the last few days had just worn her out. Too much walking and not enough food.

As she drove, her hands twisted restlessly against the wheel. Emerson didn’t really know where to go from here. Her life had changed the moment she had killed Negan’s men, and then she’d been in the Sanctuary with no hope of ever leaving. But now she had two choices it seemed. Stay in Alexandria with Rick and his people, or be on her own once again to brave the world in silence. That wasn’t really a life, but it had worked for her before. After having the intimacy of being with someone, though, Emerson had no idea if she could go back to being completely isolated again.

Rick seemed trustworthy, and Daryl had trusted the man with his life, even though in the end not even Rick had been able to save him. He also seemed to have a lot in common with Emerson’s current state of mind, but she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She was curious to know exactly what had transpired between Rick and Negan, but it wasn’t really any of her business to ask.

She rubbed the palm of one hand over her thigh and glanced to the right, making the turn that would lead her to Alexandria. Emerson was anxious to get back and show Rick that she had been right, but she also wanted a shower and food. Sleep wouldn’t hurt either, considering she hadn’t gotten much the night before.

When she approached the gate, she put the truck in park and grabbed her bags, descending to the ground as the gate slid open. Rick was walking toward her, eyebrows raised in surprise. “You got it?”

“Yeah. They were more than happy to give your shit back to the Savior of the Sanctuary.” Emerson said with a shrug, walking past him and into the streets of Alexandria toward the place she’d stayed the night before. T

The house was empty, so she dropped her stuff into her room and rubbed cleaning clothing, heading to the kitchen for scissors before shutting herself in the restroom. Slowly stripping down, Emerson positioned herself in the mirror and held up the scissors, starting to cut her hair off to be even with her chin. It took her a decent amount of time with shaky hands, but when she was done she smiled.

_Much better._

A slow shower was next, and Emerson took the time to let the water relax her muscles before using a razor to tidy up. Negan’s soap was all she had, but that was okay with her.

_“You must be the luckiest man in the world to have found a supply of this.” Emerson had said with a faint smile, unsurprised when a new bottle replaced the almost empty one in his shower._

_“Things do tend to go my way, sweetheart.” Negan tugged her against his chest and their lips met in a slow kiss, tongues doing their own private dance in her mouth. “Besides, I fucking love smelling me all over you.” He ran his bearded chin over her neck and Emerson smiled faintly._

_“I kinda like it, too.”_

And even now that he had killed Daryl nearly killed her, now that he himself was dead, Emerson still felt some sick connection that she liked with Negan. _Yep, Stockholm Syndrome._

Once dry, Emerson slid into the lacy bra and panties, something she hadn’t worn for months now. They fit her, the red fabric hugging her thin body like it was made just for her. A clean pair of jeans felt better than she could have imagined, and she couldn’t help but smile as she did them up, though they didn’t quite fit her right. A belt was next, Negan’s knife and sheath attached, then one of his t-shirts, tied up to expose some of the pale skin of her flat stomach.

_Way better._

Before heading to go find Rick, she closed the door to the room that was hers for now and tucked her short hair behind one ear. Upon stepping outside, Emerson’s eyebrows shot up at the hustle and bustle of the streets. Everyone was helping unload and take stock of what she had brought back, and she watched as each member of the community took back their weapons. Everyone was happy, and when Rick looked up to see her, he grinned and jogged over and up the few stairs.

“You are my kind of perfect, Emerson. I can’t believe you were able to get our things back.” He said in that sweet southern drawl.

 _My kind of perfect._ The words reminded her so much of the way Daryl had always told her that she was his “kind of crazy.” It made her freeze, and she just stood there staring at Rick for several long minutes.

“Emerson...?” Rick questioned softly, tilting his head a bit.

Emerson blinked and then gave a shrug of her shoulders. “Like I said. They were more than happy to return your things. Dwight told me that the Sanctuary no longer presents a threat to Alexandria.”

“Well, I sure do hope that’s true.” Rick looked her over with a faint smile. “You look like you feel better.”

“Showers and clean clothes do wonders for a person.”

“And your hair looks good like that.”

Emerson reached up and touched her now short hair and returned his small smile. “Thank you. Just needed a change.”

Before Rick could reply, he was pulled away by someone, so Emerson simply stood on the small porch, smiling as she watched the excitement.

 


End file.
